Date: Mon, 5 Jul 2010 16:08:22 -0400
From: Josh Halaka <josh.halaka@gmail.com>
Subject: seducing-my-father part 2

--Once again, this story is a blend of fantasy and actual events. Usual
disclaimers apply.--

I began to experience a sea change following the events with John. I didn't
understand what I was feeling at the time; in retrospect I think I was
beginning to understand the power of sexuality and the allure of my youth
and willingness. It was akin to spending years trying to start a fire with
flint and steel, only to discover that I could produce it from my
fingertips. When I left the worksite that evening, I felt a heady sense of
what was to come.

The encounter with John also opened my eyes to masturbation. It's not that
I was overly naïve about self-pleasure prior to bringing John to orgasm,
but the idea of it never held much interest for me. From that day on I was
a boy obsessed (what 13 year old boy isn't?). I looked for any and every
reason to shed my clothes and bring myself off. I never produced more than
a thin stream of ejaculate and a sigh, though. I didn't quite get the hang
of it until I had someone show me what my body was really capable of.

The remaining two weeks working with my father were uneventful. John had
reconciled with his girlfriend and seemed to not be interested in repeating
our tryst. I caught him looking in my direction a few times, but if he had
any desire for a repeat performance he didn't show it. During those two
weeks we didn't have any time alone, constantly surrounded by my father's
other employees. Much later on, when I asked him about those two weeks he
told me he was incredibly conflicted: simultaneously terrified that I would
tell someone and aroused at the idea of doing it again.

After those two weeks were over, I started my first year of High School. It
was the fall of 2000, and I was just turning 14. I was glad to be away from
my father and his workers. Bering surrounded by sweaty, swarthy men on a
near constant basis kept me in a fog. I couldn't think straight. More
importantly, I couldn't plan.

Over the summer, my parents had moved us from a townhouse in the middle of
the city to a single family home in the middle of the suburbs. This
precipitated a change in schools and I found myself in a much larger class
than I was used to without a single person I could call a friend. This
worked well for me; I was astute enough not to need to pay total attention
in class and, combined with the lack of social interaction, I had ample
time to concoct various schemes involving my father.

Looking back, my idea of what it would take to seduce my father was
laughable. I vividly remember having an "ah ha!" moment in class one day,
and scribbling "trip and fall" in my scratch pad. I thought if I pretended
to trip and fell face-first into my father's crotch that he would
immediately unzip his pants and feed me his dick. I mentioned in the last
chapter that I wasn't the most athletic of children; I wasn't a very
coordinated teen either. I misjudged my fall and head-butted my father
square in the nuts. To say my plan failed was a bit of an understatement.

Things turned around for me after Christmas, though. My parents bought a
computer and an AOL account as the family gift that year. They understood
very little about the internet and never set up any parental
controls. After a few nights of exploring the online world, I stumbled onto
M4M chat rooms. I was very naïve, and answered the age/sex/location
questions with sincere honesty. I ended up with quite a few men more than
willing to talk to me. "Cybering" was a thrill, but when the conversation
turned to anal sex I quickly logged off. On a basic level I understood the
mechanics, but it was terrifying to talk about.

After expressing this to one man I had repeatedly chatted with, he took it
upon himself to educate me. He sent me pictures and videos of older bearish
types with twinks. He told me about his own experiences in great detail and
asked me to tell him my fantasies. I relayed my desire to seduce my father,
and he responded with enthusiasm. He had a 16 year old son who he was
enamored with, and after a few conversations he asked if we could talk on
the phone.

The next Saturday night, after my parents had gone to bed, I snuck down to
our basement and called him. He told me that he would introduce me to the
pleasures of anal stimulation, so I brought Vaseline and a taper candle to
use as an ersatz dildo. His voice was exactly what I had hoped for - a
gruff, gravely bass with a hint of a southern accent. After a few minutes
of pleasantries and assurances that my parents wouldn't catch us in the act
and send his ass to jail, he asked me what I was wearing.

He commanded me to strip and to lay down on the couch with my knees up and
my feet on the armrest. Step by painstaking step he told me what he would
do to me if he were with me, and he instructed me to touch myself where he
told me. I ran my fingers over my face, dipping the tips of my thumb and
forefinger into my mouth. I ran my hands to my chest and pinched my
nipples, imagining his fingers on my body as he leaned over me in the cool
basement. I ran my hands down to my dick where he instructed me to play
with my balls and rub my fingers on the spot beneath them. He had my slick
up my hand with Vaseline and stroke myself while he described what it would
feel like if his lips were wrapped around my dick.

He told me to imagine that he was on top of me, his hard dick grinding
against my own. I thrust against the candle in my right hand while my left
stroked my neck, imagining it was his lips. At this point I began to phase
in and out of reality. I laid the phone next to my ear, and his disembodied
voice seemed to come from right above me. His voice was constant, insistent
and relentless and I started to imagine that he was there with me. The
pitch blackness of the basement made it easier to imagine that he was right
next to me. My legs lifted, supported by his invisible hands. My slick
fingers found my ass and I moaned his name, convinced that the pressure I
was feeling was coming from him. I felt the sharp pain of a finger pushing
its way inside me and I gasped. After a moment I felt another finger push
its way in and I had to suppress a scream.

After a minute or two of opening myself, he told me to get up and squat
down over him. I put the candle in the crevasse between the cushions and
sat back, rubbing it against my hole. He said he was supporting me; I was
putting all of my weight into his hands as he held me up over his dick. He
told me to keep quiet, and then removed his hands from my thighs and swept
my feet out from under me. He impaled me fully on his dick in one quick
movement.

I bit back a sob and felt my eyes filling with tears. The pain was like
nothing I had ever felt before, and I knew in that moment that I was 100%
straight and would never have sex with a man. His voice, calm and soothing
in my ear only intensified my pain; this man just broke me in two and he's
acting as if he did it for my own benefit. He told me that it hurts less if
you don't see it coming and that if I was brave and stuck it out I would
eventually enjoy the sensation.

He was, of course, right. My tears eventually dried and the pain in my ass
was replaced by that oddly full feeling you get when someone is inside
you. I laughed, thinking of that Shell Silverstein book "The Missing
Piece". I knew in that moment that I was 100% gay and that I would never
feel as complete as I did with someone inside of me. Isn't it funny how
willing you are to make proclamations about yourself when you're
experiencing sex for the first time?

He told me to start bouncing on his dick after I had gotten accustomed to
the sensation. Unfortunately the couch cushions weren't as tight as my ass
and I ended up taking the candle with me. He then had me lay on my back and
imagine that he was on top of me. One of my legs was over the back of the
couch and the other was held aloft, my ass in the air for him. He fucked me
slowly at first, not letting me touch my dick. As he got closer and closer
to his orgasm he started to lose his eloquence and the reality of what I
was doing came back to me. He hadn't knocked my legs out from under me - I
had impaled myself on a candle; he wasn't fucking me, I was fucking
myself... The realization that I was the one causing my body to react the
way it did gave me a new understanding of self-pleasure. I started twisting
the candle as I thrust it into me, fisting my dick and bringing myself
closer and closer to my first real orgasm. I could hear the man on the
phone cum, practically screaming, and I followed quickly behind. I locked
my jaw to keep from yelling and blasted cum over my head. The second shot
hit me right in the face and I opened my mouth to lick my lips. When my
orgasm subsided, I returned the phone that I had accidentally knocked onto
the floor to my ear. The man was cooing and telling me what a great boy I
was. He was so proud of me for taking daddy's cock. We were going to do it
again, and so much-

I hung up on him. He had served his purpose; I was no longer scared of anal
sex. He had also given me insight into how the mind of a man willing to
have sex with his son worked. I realized that his desperate desire for his
son was completely different from my situation with my father. All of my
plans were based on the assumption that he wanted me and just needed a sign
that I wanted him just as much. Lying in the dark, sticky with cum and
Vaseline, I realized what I needed to do.

By the following week I had given my father an orgasm, and by the end of my
Freshman year I had tasted his cum. Stay tuned.

--Fuck, sorry this took so long. I kept getting hung up on the phone call -
at first I tried to write dialogue, but I couldn't remember the actual
conversation and I kept getting tripped up. From now on I'm going to try to
get something out once a week.

Also, I really want to say thank you to everyone who was nice enough to
send an email after reading the first part of my story. I wasn't expecting
any kind of response and hearing that people liked it was a definite
pleasure. I also appreciate those of you who have shared your stories with
me. They were fucking hot. To those who had negative or overly critical
things to say: I understand that the anonymity of the internet makes it
easy to be unnecessarily rude or cruel, and I don't hold it against you. I
would appreciate it if you didn't send those kinds of emails; understand
that I have no intentions of responding should you feel compelled to do
so. If you catch spelling or grammatical errors in my writing, tell me
about it. I know I have a tendency to misuse commas and end sentences with
prepositions, but sending "I liked your story despite the grammatical
errors," is really obnoxious. If you don't tell me what they are then I
can't correct them.

This story still has a ways to go, but unfortunately I can't be as
dedicated to it as I would like. Anticipate that I'll have updates out once
a week or so. Real life trumps reminiscing. The expositional stuff is all
out of the way now, and we`ll be getting to the good stuff in the next
part. Hope you like it!--